The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas (the mitten read aloud TXT) 📗

said. As if he’d be willing to repeat himself as much as he possibly could as long as I gave him an answer.

Or as if he were offering something simple. Something that would obtain a straightforward answer that didn’t require much consideration. Something like, Would you like dessert, Lina? Why, yes, of course. I’ll have the cheesecake, thank you. But Aaron’s offer was everything but simple and as far away from cheesecake as one could get.

“Aaron”—I shot him a look—“you can’t be serious.”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

How about everything? “Well, for one, you are you. And I am me. This is us, Aaron. You just can’t be,” I repeated. Because he couldn’t be.

“I’m perfectly serious, Catalina.”

I blinked. Again. Then, I laughed bitterly. “Is this a joke, Blackford? I know you struggle with that, and let me tell you, you shouldn’t go around, making jokes without a real feel of what’s funny and what’s not. So, I’m going to help you here,” I looked at him straight in the eye. “This is not funny, Aaron.”

He frowned. “Not joking.”

I kept staring at him for a long moment.

Nope. No. He couldn’t not be joking. He couldn’t be serious either.

Bringing my hands to my tangled and wet hair, I shoved it back a little too briskly. I was ready to get out of here. And yet, I remained rooted to the place.

“Did you come up with any other options? A better option than me?”

Both his questions hit the mark I assumed he’d aimed at because I felt my shoulders fall in defeat.

“Do you even have any other options?”

No, I did not. And the fact that he was being so blunt about it didn’t feel all that great either. My cheeks heated, and I remained silent.

“I’m going to take that as a no,” he said. “You have no one.”

And that felt a little like a kick to the stomach.

I tried really hard to keep the hurt off my face—I did. Because I didn’t want Aaron Blackford to get a glimpse of how pathetic and silly his words had made me feel.

How lonely I must be when my only option was a colleague who didn’t even like me all that much in the first place.

But he wasn’t wrong. And as much as it hurt to admit it, at the end of the day, I had no one else. Just Aaron Blackford. He—and only he—completed my list of options. In a world where I’d consider taking him to Spain as my made-up boyfriend, that was.

Unless—

Oh my God. Holy shit. Did he notice—understand—what happened back in my office? That I accidentally told my mother that my boyfriend’s name was Aaron?

No. I shook my head. No way. Impossible.

“I don’t understand why you are doing this,” I told him with what I was sure was the most sincerity I had ever spoken to him.

He sighed, the air leaving his body almost softly. “And I don’t understand why it’s so hard to believe that I would.”

“Aaron”—a bitter chuckle left my lips—“we don’t like each other. And it’s okay because we couldn’t be any more … different. Incompatible. And if we barely manage to share a space for more than a handful of minutes without bickering or wanting to bite each other’s heads off, why in the world would you believe this was a good idea?”

“We can get along just fine.”

I bit back another laugh. “Okay, that was actually funny. Good job, Blackford.”

“Not joking.” He scowled. “And I am your only option,” he shot back.

Maldita sea. He was still right about that.

My back leaned against the closed passenger door as he continued delivering blows, “Do you want to attend that wedding alone? Because I’m the one who can fix that.”

Ugh, he truly believed I was that desperate and resourceless.

Yes, a voice said in my head. Because you are both those things.

I shook my head, desperation inflating inside my chest and pushing me to consider this crazy alternative that involved him.

“Okay,” I said very slowly. “Let’s say I entertain this ridiculous idea. If I accept your offer and let you do this, what’s in it for you?” I crossed my arms, noticing how my still-wet clothes were sticking to my skin. “I know you, and I know you don’t do stuff just for the sake of it. You must have motivation. A reason. A goal. You must want something in exchange; otherwise, you would never help me. You are not that kind of person. At least, not with me.”

Aaron’s head reared back, almost unnoticeably, but I was sure I had seen it. He was quiet for a long moment, and I could almost hear the wheels in his head turning.

“You could do the same for me,” he finally said.

The same? “You’ll need to be more specific, Blackford. Is your sister getting married too?” I paused in thought. “Do you even have siblings? I don’t know, but, well, I guess it doesn’t matter if you do or don’t. Is there a wedding you want me to go to as your date?”

“No,” he answered. And I didn’t know if he was talking about having siblings or not. But then he added, “Not for a wedding, but you could be my date.”

Be his date?

Why did it sound so … so … different when it was him asking me? Why did it sound so freaking different when Aaron was the one needing someone and not me?

“I—” I stopped myself, feeling self-conscious for a reason I didn’t understand. “Do you need a date? Like”—I pointed a finger at him—“you? A woman to be your date?”

“I don’t intend to show up with a chimpanzee, like you suggested. So, yes, a woman.” He paused, that scowl taking shape slowly. “You.”

My lips snapped closed and then opened back up, probably making me look like a fish. “So, you want me”—I pointed at myself—“to pretend to be your date?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” I interrupted him, the question bursting out of me.

“No, I don’t.”

I watched his eyes close